Revisiting A&M Records No. 30
Cat Stevens: ‘Matthew & Son’ (March ’67)
Cat Stevens: ‘New Masters’ (December ‘67)
Technically these first two assortments from the future Yusuf Islam don’t belong in this series. His platinum tenure within Mr. A & Mr. M’s haven didn’t begin until he finally found his sound on third album ‘Mona Bone Jakon’ three years later.
By that time he’d parted ways with Deram — the UK company that issued his debut, then demanded a rushed follow-up months later — and signed instead with Island in his native London while concurrently establishing a welcoming home at ye olde Chaplin Studios at La Brea and Sunset. Until the end of the ‘70s, when his career’s lengthy hiatus began, Stevens would play a crucial role in establishing both labels as the biggest independents in the biz.
His opening twofer wasn’t reissued later by A&M, either, as was the case with Fairport Convention, Procol Harum and Spooky Tooth, all mentioned in previous posts. Indeed, if you’re craving proto-Cat but don’t want to spend big on recent heavyweight represses, this ’71 combo remains your best bet, with quality copies selling for $10 or less. (‘New Masters’ is the back cover, see second slide.)
To better appreciate what he achieved during his heyday, however, I thought it’d be helpful to revisit stepping stones that led him there.
I’m struck by how closely his launch-angle trajectory parallels Bowie’s: both young mavericks spent formative years navigating gaps between folk and rock, English piano pop and musical theater, before eliminating elements that either didn’t fit so well (like stock orchestrations) or ones they’d simply outgrown (like cutesy tunes), then forging styles all their own.
Not that I don’t value Stevens as a Serious Artist, especially now, much-redeemed after the arguably misconstrued Salman Rushdie controversy decades ago during his fundamentalist days. But there’s a charm to these albums — a willingness to chase whims, regardless of results — that he never had again.
Seeds that will blossom into ‘Moonshadow’ and ‘The Wind’ and ‘Where Do the Children Play?’ and more are as enjoyable as they are easily spotted. That instantly recognizable voice of his already flexes a distinctive burr. And ‘Here Comes My Baby’ and his debut title track are still among the best songs he ever wrote.
Two other points:
Despite its inadequacies — less-compelling melodies, lyrics that could have benefitted from several more drafts, subject matter (sleepiness, laughing apples) unlikely to inspire stirring songs — ‘New Masters’ is still better than its battered reputation suggests. Frankly, the very existence of ‘The First Cut Is the Deepest,’ cracked cries and all, goes a long way toward erasing feebler bits like ‘I’m Gonna Be King’ … just fucking dreadful.
‘Bring Another Bottle Baby’ is a must for fans of kitsch and cheese. It’s Bacharachian lounge-pop hilariously uncharacteristic of such a generally ponderous thinker, replete with silly come-ons Austin Powers probably stole at some point: ‘Better bring another bottle with you, baby / If you really wanna party, then let’s make it swing / Right into the morning / Better bring another bottle with you, baby / Cuz I really wanna make-a this little bell ring / Ding-dong … ding!’ Brilliant.